The Disappearance of Gilbird Beilschmidt
by Jenny Max
Summary: Hell hath no fury like a Prussia without his Gilbird.
1. Chapter 1

Sarcastically speaking, jet lag was a nation's best friend. Both nation and jet lag were very well acquainted due to the constant flights to other countries for almost any reason under the rainbow, therefore, all nations appreciated the extra day they get between their flying day and the start of the meeting week.

During this day, many nations embraced sleep like fluffy warm blankets around their cold, weary bodies. Some may snooze until late morning, others wouldn't budge until dinnertime, therefore most, if not all, nations had a mutual agreement of not disturbing one another during this day of rest. No text messages or phone calls, no room visits unless previously planned, no boisterous mini parties (not that there would be any given the exhaustion everyone felt), not even alarm clocks or anything that would emit any sort of loud noise. Yes, the "Day of Rest" was almost like a peace treaty that the whole world agreed with and (figuratively) signed.

Unfortunately, on this dreary Sunday morning, every single soul on the floor was abruptly awoken by a horribly loud and absolutely ear-bleeding shriek. Even the heaviest of sleepers were stirred and forced out of bed when the painful scream repeated again, this time with more agony. Doors were opened and heads poked out as grumbles and questions were exchanged between neighbors, and some even scowled and flexed their fingers with the need to strangle whoever was the source of the horrid noise.

All movement ceased, though, when one of the doors towards the middle of the hall slammed violently open and a certain albino ex-nation, very pissed and very much ready to kill a bitch, stomped out to send death glares to every nation who dared to look at him.

"WHO DID IT?!" he bellowed, causing a good majority of the onlookers to flinch. "Who in the hell is fucking with me?!"

The sight of an angry Prussia resulted in a mixture of reactions. Some frightened nations (Italy, Romano, Latvia) jumped back into their rooms and bolted their doors, some brave ones (Germany) took a few steps forward and prepared themselves to ask what was wrong, and the rest just stood to watch the scene unfold in front of them.

His nostrils flared like a bull's, Prussia stomped down the hall, nations shrinking into their rooms when he passed them. His red eyes – they looked about ready to shoot death lasers at someone by the way they sparked – flicked at everyone he passed until they finally landed on the small figure of England. England jumped at the fire that was aimed at his direction, but he kept his posture straight.

"May I help you?" he asked, his arms crossing and thick eyebrows furrowing as the Prussian planted himself in front of the Englishman. His strong stature was easily broken and a very unmanly "Eep!" ran through his lips as Prussia grabbed the front of his striped pajama shirt and pulled him close.

"I know it was you, Limey!" he spat, shaking the smaller nation. "What did you do? What did you do to my Junior?"

England stammered. "Wh-What in the blazes are you yammering about?"

"You know what I'm talking about, you fucking Brit!" When Prussia lifted his free hand, he shrunk back and prepared himself for a punch in the face, but instead something sugary and sweet smelling was shoved in front of his face.

A yellow-sprinkled Peep.

England's eyes widened and his caterpillar brows migrated farther down. "Is this some sort of joke? What in bloody hell are you–"

"Don't fuck with me!" If possible, Prussia grew even more pissed. "I know about that dumb hocus-pocus mumbo jumbo that you do!" He waved the Peep in front of England in an exasperated fashion. "I know that you did this to my Junior just to smite me!" Another violent shake. "What kind of prank are you pulling?! I don't even _like_ marshmallows!"

"I did no such thing, you bloody wanker! I didn't get here until two in the morning and the first thing I did was go to bed! I swear it on Her Majesty that I didn't practice any sort of magic!" He paused, his face flushing from anger with a tinge of embarrassment. "I-I _never_ practice witchcraft! I don't know where you got the idea, b-but I _don't_."

Silence fell in the hall, which was only broken by the quiet squeaking of doors as the nations who hid in their rooms cautiously peeked out again. One moment, two moments ticked by, and finally Prussia loosened his grip on England's collar and pushed him back. He took several deep, harsh breaths and turned sharply, the nations who were at the direction of his room shrinking back. None of them had ever seen him so worked up, not even when he was full-fledged country dealing with problems much worse than a missing beloved pet bird.

His footsteps echoed as he stomped back to his room, and before entering, he gave everyone one last glare and pointed an accusing finger at them. "Just you all wait. I will find out who did this, and once I do, there will be hell to pay." And at that, his door was slammed shut.

Almost instantly, a muted buzz erupted among the nations as they began asking each other about what in the name of Holy Roman Empire just happened. A few returned to their beds, some in relief and others slightly annoyed, and several gave England a quick visit with pats of sympathy. The Briton was shaking with a mixture of emotions, but fury and relief were most prominent on his face.

At the end of the hallway, separate from the quiet circus farther down the corridor, two nations were standing side by side, their faces of disbelief a contrast from the others' confused ones.

Spain licked his lips and leaned toward his friend, his eyes not leaving their fellow nations in front of them. "H-Hey," he whispered, his mouth hovering over the other's ear, "I think you just screwed us all over."

France, whose naked body was partly shielded with a blanket wrapped around his waist, nodded. "...Yea, I think I did."

* * *

**A little something that's been sitting incomplete on my computer for ages. Figured it was about time I tried finishing it. C:**


	2. Chapter 2

Monday morning opened cold, dark, and rainy. It wasn't much different from the previous day, except for the part where tens of nations were confined in a large conference room instead of their beds like they preferred. The atmosphere was the same as any other meeting; anger, boredom, and the desire to be out of such a bloody claustrophobic room made the air thick and near unbreathable.

As usual, murmurs of disapproval were exchanged as the United States spoke through his turn at the podium, his smile unbearably huge and eyes twinkling as he finished up his latest "absolutely amazing!" scheme to solve global warming. Everyone knew that the moment the obnoxious blond stood to give his speech, any form of reasoning was a lost cause, and given that all nations were granted the right to speak for at least a half hour, they couldn't boo him off the podium. So, of course, the next best thing was to criticize him into oblivion.

(It wasn't like it did anything to America's blissfully oblivious ego anyway.)

"...So then, when all the whales in the oceans start swimming around in a counterclockwise motion, it'll change the currents and stuff, and in turn it'll end up changing the air currents and stuff. Cold air will blow back up north and make the ice caps come back and stuff and Mattie's polar bears will be saved!" The blond clapped his hands together, his face portraying his excitement all to well. "Isn't it ingenious! Thank you, you're to kind."

The room was silent, the only sound coming from the hollow _thwump_ of Canada's forehead introducing itself to the oak tabletop. America's smile faltered slightly at the lack of support.

"What, are you guys, like, asleep or something?" Not surprisingly, that statement was true for a handful of nations.

England cleared his throat and shuffled his papers. When he looked up at the podium, he wanted to puke from the rainbow arching over America's expectant and sickening joy. Apparently within the last couple centuries or so, the young nation hadn't learned anything. At all.

"I don't know how best to, er, describe this, America, but..."

America interrupted with nodding and hums of approval. "I know, it's so great isn't it. Definitely one of the best things I've thought up of so far."

The edge of England's mouth twitched. "Yes, sure, we can say that. It is absolutely _brilliant_, along with your giant robots shielding the sun and you sending your "Tony" back to his "mothership" so he can bring back help for when the zombie apocalypse happens."

America let out a snort and leaned leisurely against the podium. "Tch, yea, I am brilliant. Couldn't say so better myself."

"Ugh, America, why are you so _thick_?! Your ideas are so ridiculous! Do you actually _believe_ that they would work?"

"Pff." He looked away and waved a hand snobbishly. "You're just jealous 'cuz you don't have amazing ideas like me."

"A-Amazing? You call sending radio waves into the oceans and telling marine mammals to _swim around in circles_ amazing?! It's stupid, it's ludicrous...it's _retarded_!"

Murmurs of agreement erupted from the nations who cared enough to pay attention. America, being America, either ignored the continuously growing agitation in the air or didn't notice at all. The latter seemed much more plausible, given the developed country's inability to notice changes in the atmosphere outside of his own personal bubble.

"Oh, come on, old man, no need to be so rash. You know, I have more awesome ideas than that, like sending tons and tons of frozen burgers to the starving people in Africa and giving them grills too so they can have cookouts--"

This caused a rather unpleasant uproar from the African section of the lecture room.

"Were you dropped on your head when you were a baby?!" England let out a frustrated yell and buried his face into his hands. Next to him, France clicked his tongue and gave the northern island a sympathetic rub on the shoulder.

"Ah, now, _mon cher_," he said, pulling England into a one armed hug. To his amusement, the smaller nation allowed himself to slump into his shoulder. "It cannot be _l'Amerique_'s fault that his brain is made of hamburgers." His chin perched on top of the Briton's head. "After all, you were the one who raised him, so if it were anyone's fault, it's yours."

Before he could blink, France found himself on the floor, his eyesight exploding into painful stars from his head getting knocked into his neighbor's chair. His cheek stung heavily as well, a nice fist-shaped red mark flowering on the otherwise smooth pink flesh.

"YOU FUCKING TWAT!" England grabbed France's paisley tie and hauled him onto his feet before the Frenchman's blurred vision was given a chance to straighten. Even at his disheveled state, with his head pounding and his balance partially lost, France still let out a humored laugh as if his country wasn't about to get pummeled into the ocean.

"Haha! Oh, look _mon cher_, your eyebrows look like they're going to eat the rest of your face."

"Listen to me, you fucking frog." England pretended he didn't hear France's response of _Oh, thank you for the compliment, Angleterre.~_ "I raised that boy in the most disciplined manner, guiding him to become the ideal young gentleman. Don't you question my child rearing skills for they have _nothing_ to do with...with his faulty upbringing! For all I know, he most likely fell out of a tree and knocked his head a-and scrambled his brains!"

"Or perhaps your food had an adverse effect on his brain development."

Now, as everyone knew, England was a very rational thinker. He was very calculating and always planned the right responses to difficult questions or answers to an otherwise difficult situation. He wasn't one to spurt out an offensive statement without a second thought (except when having to deal with a certain irritating Frenchman, but he didn't count). Unfortunately, the heavy, tense atmosphere was enough to drive even the most amiable and patient nation to the edge of their sanity, therefore, when England opened his mouth to blurt out his next statement, he wasn't in his right mind, the words being pulled out by a leash by his pent up aggravation.

"_I_ had nothing to do with his lack of brain cells! For all I care, fucking _Sweden_ could have kicked him upside the head without realizing it when he was marching around all over the boy's fucking land before I got there!"

A collection of "_oooh~_"s chorused from the nations, any and all side conversations and arguments dissipating all together. A second too late, England realized what he just said and gasped, letting France fall to the ground as his grip loosened on his tie. Slowly and with much hesitation, he turned to look at the Nordics, where his green eyes locked instantly with teal ones. Sweden's normally stony face looked darker, and a very violent shiver took a lap around England's spine when the (much) larger man's eyes narrowed.

"A-Ahaha! Hello, Sweden! Lovely weather we have today!" England let out a nervous laugh, his legs twitching with the need to run when Sweden looked about ready to tear his organs out from his mouth.

Another nation beat the Scandinavian to the punch, though. Next to bespectacled man, another smaller, more affable nation flew to his feet and slammed his hands against the table, his violet eyes sparking with rage.

"You will _not_ talk about Su-san like that!" Finland screeched. "He has nothing to do with your problems with raising children!" And before anyone could blink, he leapt clear across the table and tackled England down with a yell of fury.

At this point, almost no one cared anymore about the direction the meeting was going. Over at the Asian section, South Korea hopped on top of his seat and began chanting "Fight, fight, fight, fight!", his fists punching the air with glee. America swiftly jumped from his position behind the podium and pushed through the growing crowd to act as the referee as the fight quickly grew more vicious.

Of one of the few who were still in their seats, Sweden was struck speechless at the spectacle on display in front of his eyes, his mouth gaping open in awe without shame. Next to him, Denmark had climbed onto his chair to try to get a better view of the fight, his eye wincing when he caught a fist slamming into England's temple.

"Dude, _Sverige_," Denmark said, leaning down to prod Sweden on the shoulder. "You should, you know, go get your wife before he causes some serious damage. I doubt that'd really look good to the rest of the European Union. Even if it's amusing as hell to watch."

Sweden just nodded and grunted out a "...Mmhm..." Yet, he didn't make any move to do such thing, and instead opted to stand and strain his neck to try to see past the bouncing crowd of onlookers. It was so interesting to see the otherwise mild and mature Finland lash out with such (faux)Viking rage. He'd never admit it out loud, but he wasn't going to deny it either; his "wife" was turning him on right now.

Amidst all the yelling and cheering, one very notable figure was absent from all the uncontrollable chaos.

Sunken low on his cushioned seat with crossed arms and furrowed eyebrows, Prussia showed not one iota of interest in the wild and exciting shenanigans taking place some yards away. His red eyes were directed instead at the sheets of printed notes sitting atop his folder, glaring at them as if he could set them on fire. The seats neighboring his own were empty, save for Liechtenstein, who was commanded by her beloved brother to not leave her seat (she was instead standing on the table to try to see what was happening), and both Austria and Hungary farther down the table. Germany and Switzerland, perhaps the only ones who actually cared about the outcome of the meeting, were currently occupied with trying to settle the chaos before it truly got out of hand and started another potential war.

Austria, being the fine and sophisticated man he was, wanted absolutely nothing to do with the bedlam and was currently reviewing his notes. Hungary, meanwhile, was on top of the table giving her lovely boyfriend a commentary of the fight, blatantly ignoring the fact that he didn't care at all.

"Oh, wow, did you _see_ that swing that Finland has? _Jézus Krisztus_, that boy is wicked!"

"Eliza dear, please be a proper woman and get down."

"Oh, oh, looks like England is starting to man up...oh wait, I lied. Finland just got him into a headlock."

"Eliza dear." With a sigh, Austria placed down his papers and rubbed his face. "Please, the whole world can see up your skirt."

Hungary's cheeks puffed out in a pout. Austria would've found it cute if he weren't already so annoyed. "Oh, Roderich darling, you're such a killjoy." Almost as an act of defiance, she gave her flowery skirt a small flip to give her Roderich darling a peek at her pink-and-green striped panties. A smug smile spread on her face as her heels clicked from table to chair and finally the floor, her legs crossing in exaggerated daintiness when she sat down. "There, I'm down, sweetie."

Face flushed from a mixture of anger and embarrassment (as well as another emotion he would never think about in a public area), Austria cleared his throat and straightened his papers. "Thank you, love."

A comfortable silence settled between the two, with Austria browsing his notes again and Hungary trying to catch a glimpse of the fight from her seat. After a moment, Hungary pulled at his blazer and leaned in close, her voice dropping to a faint whisper.

"You know what, Roderich?" she asked, causing her boyfriend to turn and face her. "There's something missing here."

"Other than everyone's sanity, love?"

Hungary let out an amused chuckle. "But that is what makes the world so much fun! I meant him, though." A finger pointed over Austria's shoulder, and he twisted around to see a sulking Prussia.

"Him?" His head shook and he faced his love again. "Why are you worried about him? I find his silence to be a blessing. That's one less idiot trying to knock this building down."

"Roderich! You're not one bit worried about him?"

"Why? Should I be?"

With a huff, Hungary pushed herself to her feet and perched her hands onto her hips. She had to raise her voice a notch to be heard above all the noise. "Now, Austria, I know how much you loathe Prussia, and I do too, but you and I know that he should not be brooding over there. He should be out there," a digit pointed to the crowd, "taking bets or something like that. It's just not right, and it's unhealthy for him."

Austria gave her an incredulous look. "You're actually fretting over his _health_? Elizabeta, are you crazy? You should be thankful that he's not in the mood to make situations worse! Don't worry about him, his bird will show up eventually and things will be fine again. Now please, sit down and put this matter out of your head. His mood should be nothing of your concern."

As Austria turned his attention back to his notes, Hungary didn't make any move to take her seat once more. Instead she shook her head, her eyes rolling at how much her significant other was being a douche. She walked around his chair and approached Prussia, Austria's protests deaf in her ears.

Prussia made no movements to recognize Hungary's presence behind him, even when she placed a hand gingerly on his shoulder.

"Prussia?"

His eyes narrowed slightly in response.

"...Are you still upset?" Hungary was proud to say that she was good at starting up conversations and liked to act as the big sister everyone can go to if they needed a shoulder to cry on, but when dealing with a sour and very out of character Prussia, she just could not find the right thing to say.

Prussia barked out a single sarcastic laugh. "Gee, I don't know, Hungary, am I?"

She flinched and pulled her hand back, but she stayed where she was. Determination to try to at least lighten his mood left her by his side, even though she would've been better off with leaving him with his sulking.

"I was thinking that perhaps maybe we can help you out..."

Prussia stared at her, his eyes freely showing his suspicion. They quickly changed to anger, and slowly he rose to his feet. Hungary took a step back (did she say something wrong?), and behind her, Austria stood as well, his body tense and gaze wary as he watched Prussia closely.

"_We_? Who's _we_? You and your sorry excuse for a lover? Even if I needed help, you two would be the _last_ people who'd I'd ask for! I'd rather go to _Russia_ than you two!"

Again, Hungary flinched. Those words stung, but unlike most any girl who would be caught under that nasty glare, exasperation boiled at the pit of her stomach. Couldn't he see that she was trying to offer him help? Even if she constantly brushed the albino aside and favored whacking him upside the head with kitchen utensils, deep down she did still care for him. Even if they rarely got along throughout their history of knowing each other, she still considered him a friend, as twisted as the thought sounded.

Her mouth opened so she could retort, but Prussia butt in before a sound left her lips.

"You're teasing me, aren't you?"

"Wh-What?"

"That's it! You're trying to make fun of me because I'm miserable!" He took a step closer so their noses were centimeters from touching. Hungary could smell the stale stench of liquor in his breath. "You're planning on coming to me and act as an oh-so-caring friend that you never were, then you'll run me into the ground!"

"I wasn't going to do anything like that!" Slowly, the anger crawled through her body, a familiar feeling when dealing with Prussia's antics. "I truly want to help you, Gilbert."

Prussia started. Hungary had only referred to him by his human name barely a handful of times, and those times were when she was talking to him with full sincerity, an event that occurred once in every other blue moon. Usually he would be touched and he'd crack some sort of joke. Instead, the opposite happened.

"You want to help me? Well, how about this, _sweetheart_." His words leaked from his teeth like venom. "You can kindly fuck off and leave me alone. Just because I am no longer my own nation does not mean you can give me hell." At that, Prussia none-too-gently shoved Hungary aside, not at all reacting to her hiss of pain when her back collided with the table.

When Austria made a move to intercept Prussia, he froze when he was given a death glare, one that made him back up several steps. For a moment Prussia stood in place, his eyes showing his debate on whether or not he should beat the living shit out of his favorite aristocratic friend. Finally, the albino turned away and left the room.

"Eliza dear, are you okay?" Austria quickly strode to his beloved's side and helped her into a seat.

"I'm fine, Roderich darling." Her back arched in an attempt to ease the pounding in her spine. Austria, being the dear he was, helped to rub and massage the sore spot. "I haven't seen him so upset in several hundred years."

"All this over a missing bird? He is merely acting like a brat and blowing the whole situation out of proportion."

"...No, no he's not dear." She shifted lightly to give Austria better access to her back. A quick gaze over the room told her that no one saw their little scene. The crowd had tightened around the fighting pair, with Germany and Switzerland lost in all the constant movement. Feeling strangely relieved that everyone was too distracted with Finland and England, she allowed herself to relax into Austria's loving arms, nodding when he suggested that they left and grabbed a coffee together.

As they left, they didn't notice a pair of worried green eyes watch their departure. Unbeknownst to Hungary, Spain had, in fact, witnessed Prussia's outburst, catching it from the beginning when he crawled out from the crowd. With a sigh, he rubbed callused hands over his tanned face and prepared himself to dive back into the crowd to find France.

---

Shortly after Austria and Hungary took their leave, the crowd had finally been successfully dispersed. All it took was several gunshots aimed towards the ceiling, causing more than a few nations to scream as they ducked to shield themselves from shards of broken light bulbs and ceiling tile bits. Germany called for a one hour recess, while Switzerland patrolled around with his favored SIG P210, playing the policeman to prevent any more trouble from happening. The conference room during that next hour was going to be off limits, due to the need for maintenance to come in and tidy the mess left behind. England and Finland were pulled aside and led to a separate, smaller room, most likely to be given a fine lecture about proper behavior during a conference (which was just irony in the making).

It was outside that small room where Spain finally located France. Sweden was there too, waiting for his "wife" like the obedient man he was, and Spain gave him a polite nod as he dragged his friend away.

"Ah, _Espagne_~" France pouted and tried to stop, but the action nearly resulted in him getting pulled into a faceplant. "Where are we going? I wanted to tease _Angleterre_ about that fight of his. Did you not see how hard his pretty little _derriere_ was being kicked? Finland is a shrimp compared to him! It was hilarious!"

"Yes, _Francia_, I saw." After rounding a corner into a satisfyingly empty corridor, Spain stopped in his tracks and turned to face France. "Frankie, we have to tell Gil the truth."

France merely blinked. Spain's voice was a low whisper, his serious tone a drastic contrast to his usual carefree and sunny nature. He unconsciously leaned in closer to his friend, his own voice dropping to the same volume.

"Are you crazy, Toni? We can't do that, he'll strangle us!"

"Better than letting him sulk and snap at every person he has contact with." Spain let out a groan and ran his fingers through his dark curls. "Besides, he's going to find out sometime that it was you. That would be even--"

"Wait, wait, stop right there, Antonio." France's hands were raised defensively. "Me? You mean _us_, _mon ami_. You were in this too."

"No I wasn't!"

"Well, it was your idea anyway."

"Yes, just an _idea_. It was a random little thought I figured I'd share with you for a bit of humor, not an actual _dare_ to pull off!"

Their quiet bickering continued. They did not notice the subject of their interests, his shaky hands wiping the last trails of tears from his eyes, exit from a door farther down the abandoned hall. Prussia paused when he spotted his two best friends huddled so close to each other, their whispering harsh but incomprehensible. Only when his croaky voice called out did they finally realize that he was there.

"Hey guys, whuddya's doin' here?"

"P-Prussia!" Both men stood bolt upright in attention, their eyes wide with surprise.

"Well?" The albino stood by their sides, as if they were speaking under normal circumstances. He sniffled, one hand rubbing an eye and the other shoved into the pocket of his slacks. He didn't seem at all concerned with the fact that his closest friends were witnessing him in the most unawesome condition. "Did you guys decide to run off or something?"

"Er, actually, Gilbert." France let out an awkward cough. "Recess was called, on account of broken lights and several holes in the ceiling."

"Mm." Prussia nodded in understanding and tucked his other hand into his pockets. An uncomfortable silence settled between the three of them, until Spain decided to clear his throat.

"Erm, Gilbert, we, uh, have to...tell you something." He forced himself to keep eye contact with the ex-nation. "We...know where your little, uh, _pájaro_ is."

The effect of his words was immediate. Prussia's eyes grew wide and bright, and a hopeful smile spread on his lips. He grabbed the Spaniard's forearms and shook his slightly.

"Y-You know where my little Junior is?! Where? Where is he?"

Spain put on a nervous lopsided smile and chuckled lightly. "Eheh, actually, Francis knows where it is. Right, Frankie?"

Red eyes swiveled onto France, who gulped.

"M-Me? Now, _Espagne_, stop your joking. I know that you have it with you..."

"Ahaha, no I don't." Spain felt trapped within Prussia's grip, even though it hadn't tightened or loosened in any way. "You were the one with it the last I remembered."

"But, _mon ami_, I don't. I told you to keep an eye on it. I told you where to find it."

"No you didn't, _mi amigo_. You didn't say a peep until early yesterday morning."

Prussia was a slow person, his brain tending to process information at a slower pace than most others, but it was a mistake to call him stupid. As the false-smiled argument continued between the two, the last piece of the puzzle assembled in the albino's head, realization dawning on him like a brutal slap on the face. His hands dropped to his side and he took a step back, which caused his two companions to stop fighting.

"You...You two took him."

Blue and green eyes stared at him, mouths dropping and eyelids widening when they realized that they were finally caught. France and Spain started to blubber out excuses in a sorry attempt to pull them out of the hole they dug themselves into.

"Well, you see, _Prusia_, I didn't actually take it, France was the one who did it--"

"It was all _Espagne_'s idea. He thought that it would be funny to see how you would react to have your _petit oiseau_ taken away from you. I disagreed, of course--"

The two stopped in mid-explanation when they felt cold fingers grasp painfully tight on their hair. They gave Prussia confused looks, but all of a sudden the world around them burst into stars and pain as their heads were mercilessly slammed against each other. Loud yells of agony echoed in the empty hallway as the two Romance countries collapsed into writhing mounds of pain, hands gripping at their pounding heads.

Given that this was the second time France's skull was assaulted, Spain recovered faster than his French friend and managed to force his eyes open and look upwards at Prussia. He instantly regretted it, for he was met with perhaps the most vicious, burning, and depressed glare he'd witnessed in a long time. Tears were flowing freely from his red eyes, and his breathing was shaky as if he were resisting the need to sob.

"I can't believe you two." Prussia's voice was weak with disbelief. "I can't believe you'd do something so..._cruel_. You know how special Junior is to me." His boots barely made a noise on the carpeting as he took a step back. "And to think I actually believed you guys were my friends."

At that, Prussia spun around and left, leaving Spain and France with guilt clawing at the pit of their stomachs.

* * *

**Reviews, opinions, and criticisms are appreciated. :3b**

**(Today on Spike I caught this show where they collected data and did a Mafia vs Yakuza thing. It was sexy. ;u;) **


	3. Chapter 3

During the next twenty four hours or so, no one saw hide nor hair of the former Free State of Prussia. The meeting closed at six that evening in relative peace (at least compared to the brawl that happened before lunch. There was no such thing as "peace" in world meetings), and all the attendants either retired to their rooms, left to hit restaurants for dinner, or raided bars for get-togethers. Normally, Prussia would be found in one of those bars being his loud and boisterous self, both annoying and entertaining his fellow nations around him. Without his presence within the tavern, it was unusually quiet (minus the normal bickering between France and England), and there was only the muted murmuring of casual conversation.

Needless to say, without Prussia there to egg other nations into drinking games, no one left that bar smashed (though England was more than just a little bit tipsy).

The next day was twice as cold and rainy as the day before, and the poor weather conditions didn't help the mood of the nations whatsoever. Fortunately, there wasn't a repeat of the day before, and by four in the afternoon everyone was able to leave relatively unscathed.

This afternoon, Germany decided to join Veneziano (_and his brother, good Lord..._) for a nice dinner at a nearby Italian restaurant. Normally, he would follow the usual group of nations to loosen up at a bar, but going out for a drink wasn't as much fun without his brother there to challenge him into a drinking game, especially one involving Jägermeister and Red Bull.

After agreeing with the younger Italian brother to meet at the lobby, Germany excused himself to his room so he could quickly change out of his stuffy suit. His hand dug for his key, but when he clasped onto the door handle, it gave way easily under the weight and pressure of his hand and the door swung open. The blond instantly tensed and stepped inside, wondering how anyone could break into his room. His breath held, he closed the door and he was washed over with darkness, the only light coming from the dark window. The air smelled heavily of alcohol.

"Hello?" he called, his thumb flipping the light switch on. The room was bathed in light, and he was met with a mess. Beer cans were littered on the floor, and his bedsheets were thrown around and lumped on the bed as if someone were curled up under them. Germany had a feeling that he knew who the intruder was.

"Prussia, what are you doing here?" The blankets were ripped off to reveal the half naked form of Prussia, who was huddled in a curl with his face buried in the pillows. When he didn't move, Germany grasped his arm and shook him. "Bruder, where were you all day? Everyone was wondering where you went."

The question made Prussia shift his position and pull the blankets from his face, revealing puffy reddened eyes and flushed cheeks.

"Oh really?" His words were slurred and hoarse. "Why do I find that hard to believe?"

Germany rolled his eyes and sat down, shaking his head. "I know you're still upset over your bird, but that doesn't mean you miss a meeting. You need to be there–"

He was interrupted by a loud disbelieving snort followed by drunken laughter.

"_I_ n-need to _be there_?" Prussia continued to snort and chuckle. "Oh, you're so funny, West, you're so funny..."

"What do you find so funny about skipping important meetings?"

Prussia's laughter only increased. "_You actually think I _have_ to be at the meetings?_ Oh, _Jesus Christus_, West, stop it, I-I can't breathe!"

Germany had no choice but to wait until his brother's fit of laughter ceased, which surprisingly enough did not take long. Within a moment, his last chuckle filled the room and Prussia fell into silence. Germany was about to ask what he found so humorous, but he was cut off before he could open his mouth.

"You actually think I have to be there." Prussia sounded so solemn, a complete contrast to his previous outburst. "You legitimately believe that I, who no longer _has_ a kingdom or state or _any land whatsoever_, have to go to a _world meeting_ where all the _nations of the world_ talk about _world issues_ involving _their country_ as well as _others_?" His voice quickly grew hostile, and every emphasis was spat out. "_Me_, the Free State of Prussia, who was officially declared _abolished_ sixty years ago?"

Germany frowned at Prussia's lack of the use of "awesome," "amazing," or any other word the albino used to to glorify himself. "B-Bruder–"

"–_Don't._" Prussia was on his feet, his stance not swaying despite his drunken state. "Don't "Bruder" me, Germany." He took a few steps and clamped a hand on Germany's shoulder, but more for keeping his balance than to try to stress his point. "Eight hundred years, Ludwig. _Eight hundred years_. I've been alive for almost eight hundred years. I was _known_ as Prussia for five hundred! For two hundred years – _two hundred years_ – I had my own kingdom in my hands! I had everything! _Everything_! I had the land, I had the wealth, the recognition, the fear, _the power_."

Prussia's other hand held his brother's arm in a vice grip. His red eyes were wide and borderline manic with tears freely streaming down his flushed cheeks.

"I even had my own language! Now I have nothing – _nothing_. My pathetic attempts to even stay _a part of you_ only turned out in failure. I don't exist anymore! The only maps you'll find me in are in fucking textbooks! People could care less about the Kingdom of Prussia 'cause, you know, all I am is a dead nation! A dead _fucking_ nation that everyone mistakes for _Russia_!"

At this point, Prussia was bawling, his anger violently swinging to despair. His fingers loosened and he collapsed against Germany's shoulder, his shameless and intoxicated sobbing muffled by the cloth of his shirt.

"Russia, Ludwig, friggin' _Russia_..."

Germany stiffened. While he was used to his big brother's drunken fits and mood swings, not once had he seen his brother cry, and he especially never saw him talk about himself in such a negative manner. His muscular arms gingerly wrapped around the small shaking body and guided him to the bed, speaking softly to try to calm him. More incomprehensible wails came from the albino, and it took much rocking and shushing to calm him to the point where his words were understandable.

"I'm such a nobody," he moaned after a moment of sniffling and hiccuping.

"No, Gilbert, you're not a nobody."

"_Yes_ I am, Luddy. I'm such a loser. My best friend is a fucking bird for Christ's sake! I have no reason for being alive anymore. I do nothing bu-but prank Austria and watch Spain's shitty soaps and look up porn on your computer–"

"–Wait, you were the one who's been getting on my laptop?"

Prussia pulled back from Germany and gave him a brief incredulous look. "Yeah. You know anyone can get on your account. _Password_ is the shittiest password anyone could use, you know that, right?"

"...I've been meaning to change it."

"To what, your birthday? You need to be more clever than that."

"I'll work on that."

A silence fell between the two, but not an awkward one. Prussia's sobbing reduced to sniffles and heavy breathing with the occasional whimper. His arms wrapped around the younger nation and squeezed tightly.

"I want my Junior back..."

"Hush, Bruder, you'll find him again soon."

"...Hey, Luddy?"

"Mm?"

"Can you go get me another beer? I ran out back in my room."

With a sigh, Germany untangled himself from his brother and went to the small refrigerator across the room, not at all reacting when Prussia collapsed onto his side and proceeded to once more hide under the blankets. When he opened the small white door, he grimaced at the lack of any alcoholic drinks he stored the night before. Then realized that the empty cans on the floor were originally his.

"Gilbert. You drank it all."

"O-Oh yeah." Prussia lifted the blankets from his face, his eyes squinting to try to clear his foggy vision. "I was planning on breaking into Austria's room and stealing his. He says he only drinks wine, but that's gotta be the biggest fattest lie I've heard from that stupid prissy assbutt son of a bitch..." His arm fell and his head was hidden under the bedsheets again, muffling his string of cursing and name calling.

Germany groaned and returned to his place on the edge of the bed. His hand laid on Prussia's hidden shoulder. "Why don't you try and get some sleep? I'll let you stay here, how about that?"

A mumble. Germany sighed and stood up.

"I'm going out to dinner with a few friends. I don't want you getting into any trouble, Bruder. I'll be back in a couple of hours–"

A pair of arms shot out from under the blankets and wrapped around Germany's waist, effectively pulling him back down onto the bed.

"_No_!" Prussia wailed. "Don't leave me alone! I'm so lonely! _I don't wanna be alone_..."

Any attempt to loosen the death grip was futile, and Germany slumped, his hands rubbing his face. He let Prussia bury his face into his lap and cry once more. A hand gently petted snowy locks as the other looked for his Blackberry in his pocket. Germany figured that it'd be intelligent to text Veneziano and warn him that their dinner would be a little bit late.

* * *

Morning number three was better than morning numbers one and two, with the skies overcast, but not a drop of rain plummeting to Earth.

With the lunch hour just around the corner, anticipation flooded the room and left all the nations itching to leave.

It was Estonia's turn at the podium. Charts were projected on the white screen, and the bespectacled country was currently pointing out the slices of a pie chart and their significance. Several nations paid attention, many pretended they were, and a select few didn't even attempt to look attentive. Everyone had long since learned to ignore Greece's quiet snoring over in the European section.

Spain was one of the nations obviously not focusing on the podium. His head was cradled on the nook of his elbow and his notes were covered with mindless scribbles. He was on the verge of falling asleep when he was jostled from his dozed, half asleep state.

"_Mon ami_?" France's deep voice was quiet and filled with worry. "Antonio, you look more tired than yesterday. Are you okay?" France had a right to fuss with his friend, for he hadn't smiled once in the last two days.

Spain moaned quietly and sat up, the joints of his back popping. "I'm fine, Francis. Trust me, I am. Just tired. Are we leaving for lunch yet?" As if on cue, Estonia announced the end of his presentation and the room erupted in chatter and laughter. Spain was slow with gathering his papers and folders and made his way out the door behind the mob of people rushing to fill their empty stomachs. France held onto his arm to not lose him in the crowd.

Finally breaking free of the lunch rush, the two friends walked down the near empty corridors towards the connected hotel.

"You're not hungry?" France asked. Spain sighed and rubbed his face.

"I feel so bad about what we did to Prussia," he murmured.

"So do I, but I'm sure that this bird will show up eventually. The two are practically connected with some sort of invisible string or something."

"That's the thing!" Spain stopped in his tracks and faced France. "I don't think they've ever been apart. Have you ever seen him without his bird?" When France's eyes unfocused momentarily in thought, Spain nodded. "See, I don't think that bird's ever been on his own, and on the rare occasion it has, it was probably left at his house. Who knows where it is now, or if it's even alive!"

The Spaniard was promptly elbowed in the gut and given a harsh look. "Don't say that, _Espagne_. That isn't going to happen. That bird is alive, it's just hiding somewhere."

"Well, let's go find it."

"We already spent most of the afternoon yesterday trying to find that thing!"

"What are we going to do then, wait until it magically shows up on one of the tables in the meeting room? Maybe it'll have a gift ribbon stuck on its head."

"...It could happen."

"No, France." Spain set off down the hall in a brisk walk. "We're responsible for losing Gilbert's bird, the best we could do to make it up to him is to find it. You know how much he treasures it, and if it isn't found he's going to have a grudge on us that he'll never let go."

France watched his friend leave, and with only a moment of hesitation he rubbed his face and jogged after him. It looked like he wasn't going to get his lunch hour after all.

* * *

When Prussia woke up an hour ago, he thought he was going to die. His head felt like exploding, his nausea was incredibly painful, and even with the lights off and curtains drawn, the room was way too bright. If it weren't for the fact that he was sweaty and smelly and had the worst cramps on his sides, he would've stayed comfortably curled up underneath the bedsheets.

The good news was that after a long hot shower, his hangover decreased just a little bit. The bad news was that his throat now burned after spending ten minutes puking his internal organs into the toilet.

With a moan, he collapsed onto a chair and buried his face into his hands. The room still smelled like beer, but at least the mess of empty cans left on the floor the night before were cleaned up. The window was opened in an attempt to air out the room, but with the curtains shut it didn't do much good.

Last night, after his drunken emotional breakdown, Prussia kept the bed, and while the rest of the room was neatly organized, a folded blanket on the couch told him where Germany slept. Guilt bubbled in the bottom of his stomach and he tried to make the bed to make up for it. However, after nearly losing his balance while attempting to pull the bedsheets from their impossible knot, he decided to screw the idea and leave it to the housekeepers. The clock told him that it was the lunch hour, and food was more important than making the bed look nice. The walk would be good for his hangover, anyway.

Not even a minute after exiting the room, he regretted leaving and wished he ordered room service instead. He kept a hand along the wall as he traversed towards the lobby and the other massaged his poor temple.

"The light people are merciless, ain't they, Junior," he muttered despite the lack of his yellow fluffy friend. "You'd think they'd be nice and use less brighter light bulbs or somethin'."

His heart still ached from his missing Junior, but pretending he was still perched atop his head averted the pain a little bit. During the last hour, all he thought about was his little Gilbird. Would he see his buddy again or was he forever gone? Who would he talk to at night when he was lonely? Who would he read his journals out loud to when he became nostalgic? Who would he share his meals and watch crappy American shows with?

Prussia laid his hand on his head and petted where the bird normally buried in his white locks. He imagined the tiny beak nipping his fingers or little claws digging through his hair to make a comfortable nest. He never noticed the little movements or sounds his Junior made, but now that he was gone...it was too quiet.

With a sigh, he leaned against the wall and slid to the floor, his appetite suddenly gone. His headache increased and he wished he never left the hotel room.

What was he going to do without his Junior? There was no way he could find another bird to take his place. He could possibly get a dog like Germany's been suggesting for ages. His brother was never fond of the mess the bird left around the house...but Prussia doubted he could balance a German Shepherd on his head.

He buried his head in his knees and scratched the top of his head, trying to imitate Junior's ginger clawing. Maybe he'd just sit here and sulk for several hours until someone found him. That or until his hangover went away.

Due to his lack of a watch, he had no idea how long he sat there scratching his head like an idiot, but not long after collapsing, he heard familiar voices.

"Have we checked the back courtyard yet?"

"Yes, Toni, we've checked there, like what, five times?"

Familiar voices that he did not want to hear right now.

"I meant today! Maybe it's perched on a tree back there now or something. Perhaps it was hiding because of the bad weather and it'll be easier to find now that it's clearing up."

"Spain, if it wasn't there yesterday, it's not going to be there today. Maybe it flew south for the winter?"

Prussia's head lifted as Spain and France turned a corner down the hall and stopped. The three stared at each other, an awkward silence blanketing the hallway, until France cleared his throat.

"Oh, uh, Gilbert, hello. We...missed you yesterday."

Prussia's sour mood returned and he forced himself to his feet, stumbling a bit as his balance tried to cooperate with him. "Is that so? How sweet to hear."

"Prussia, please." Spain approached him despite Prussia obviously not wanting them around. "We're really, really sorry for what we've done, and I know you're so angry with us, but please stop avoiding us. We're trying to help you find your little bird_._" He gently rested his hands on Prussia's shoulders. "Please, Gilbert."

Prussia glared at Spain, but didn't move. He flinched slightly as the other started to gently rub his shoulders. Spain was trying to calm him down, to ease his anger to the point where he could think clearer. He could tell that Prussia had a rough night, and his physical suffering as a result was fogging this rational thinking. If he calmed Prussia's anger, then the three of them together could go Gilbird hunting, and if they were lucky, Gilbert would have his little birdy back before the lunch hour was over. Perhaps Spain and France could grab a quick snack in the coffee shop across the street and Prussia would join them, and this whole deal would be but a fond memory the three of them would laugh over during future Guys Night Outs. Or at least, that was what Spain hoped for.

Footsteps approached them and the two turned to see France. "Hey," the blond murmured with a reassuring smile. "We'll all find him together. Even if we were jerks, we still care about you, and we want to see you reunited with your little friend."

Finally, Prussia caved. His tense shoulders slackened, and his furrowed eyebrows raised until he held a sad puppy look. Spain brushed aside his white hair to plant a kiss on his temple and pulled him into a hug. Prussia shuddered and stifled a sobbed.

Spain was relieved. Even if their friend still held a grudge against himself and France, he at least allowed them to be close with him again and accepted their apology and help. As France ran a hand through his snowy locks, Spain was confident the rift in their relationship was healing up nicely.

That was, until France decided to ruin the moment and the small hint of trust Prussia finally gave them.

"And if we can't find him, we can look for you a new little friend."

Spain felt Prussia take in a deep, harsh breath, and in an instant he was shoved away. A little "_oof_" of pain from France told him that the albino gave him a nice punch on the shoulder.

"You know what?" he cried. "You guys are jerks!"

"No, Prussia, wait!" Spain tried to grab Prussia's arm, but he jerked away.

"Why should I forgive you two? You both took away the most precious thing to me!" Prussia spun around and marched down the hallway.

"Gilbert, wait–" Spain groaned and glared at France. "_La madre de Dios_, Francis, _why_ did you say that?"

"_D__ésolé, désolé! _I-It just kind of came out! I didn't mean it!" At that, he ran after Prussia with Spain following him, both calling for him to stop.

* * *

**Ahaha hi guys. I totally meant for this to be uploaded earlier and for it to be much longer, but since it's been sitting on my hard drive for forever and a half, I figured it was about time I actually put it up. This was intended to be the last chapter, but I'm not feeling like finishing it right away, so there's still one more chapter remaining. So, yeah! Thanks for the alerts and the reviews and stuff. C: It's nice to know people are somehow still interested after ages of not touching this fic.**


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